


Hamilteasers 2021 Edition- A collection of prompt fills, scenes, and short fics

by StegesaurusKay



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Additional tags in each chapter, Angst, Gen, George Washington is a Dad, Washingdad, Whump, Worry, assassination attempt, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StegesaurusKay/pseuds/StegesaurusKay
Summary: A series of unrelated Hamilton prompt and request fills for super-short one-shots.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Hamilteasers 2021 Edition- A collection of prompt fills, scenes, and short fics

**Author's Note:**

> My boss told me I have to start actually taking a break while on my lunchbreak. So! I've started asking for prompts for specifically short works that I can write in 30 minutes to an hour. More details on that at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Chapter One: Washington keeps vigil while Alexander lies poisoned thanks to an assassination attempt. Someone wants Washington dead... or do they?

There's nothing that can be done, the doctor informs General Washington after examining the boy. It’s in God's hands. If Hamilton survives the night, the doctor says, then maybe, just maybe, he will make it.

"The boy saved your life, didn't he?"

"Hm?" Washington barely lifts his head. The doctor lingers a moment at the door. 

"Surely sir, the poison had been intended for you. If he hadn't eaten first then you would be in his place. I'll send my report, and ensure more security regarding your food and drink from now on."

The doctor excuses himself and Washington continues his lonely vigil. Alexander does not stir. He hasn't awakened for hours now.

Poor boy. He's clammy and pale, moans from pains he cannot explain. His breathing is awful, wet and labored, each breath stealing from waning strength. 

Washington would change places with him in an instant if he could only will it so. Instead he is stuck here, watching his boy slowly fade.

"Don't you do this," Washington barely gives voice to his words. He won't give the boy permission to leave.  _ Don't do this to me. _

He doesn't know what he'd do if Alexander doesn't make it. And to know it should be  _ him. _

Washington stills a trembling hand long enough to reach out and run his fingers through Alexander’s damp hair. He lets his hand linger a moment, and dark eyes suddenly snap open.

"Sir?" The word is weak, slurred. His eyes are dull, they don't quite fix on Washington's face. Alexander stares for a moment, and then he shifts, tries to rise. "I c'n… I can work…"

"No, no," Washington carefully presses a hand to the boy’s shoulder, effortlessly pushing him back to the bed. Alexander doesn't have the strength to try to rise again.

"Sick?" Alexander blinks slowly, his head lolling to the side. 

"Yes," Washington answers quietly, moving his hand through Alexander’s hair again. The boy tries to move away, but it's just an uncoordinated jerk.

"Dying?" The question is hardly more than a breath.

Washington holds his own breath a moment, dread building in his chest. He takes Alexander's hand and squeezes. "No. You aren't dying. Just rest. I'm sure you'll feel better."

Those eyes clear a moment, focus more intently on Washington’s. They seem to search for something before slipping closed. The boy's hand goes limp in his, but his pulse continues to beat rapidly against his fingertips. 

He has to make it. He  _ has _ to. Alexander cannot die because Washington invited him for supper. Not when he should be dying in this child's place.

Minutes, hours tick by. Alexander does not improve, but he's no worse either. Washington forces himself to stay awake, sits at the side of the bed. The house is silent, save for every little sound that passes Alexander’s lips.

Washington will hear those whimpers in his nightmares for the rest of his life. 

And then another sound, paper crinkling under the door. At first Washington doesn't look away, but then there are footsteps too, walking away.

He turns. In the moonlight he sees the scrap of paper lying there. Perhaps a note from the doctor inquiring about Alexander’s condition. Washington rises and retrieves it.

Rather than lighting a candle and risk waking the boy, he moves to the window and reads by the dim moonlight.

And Washington’s blood instantly runs cold.

_ If I cannot have him then nobody will. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! So I'm working a lot lately, and hoping I can collect some prompts to work on for my lunchbreaks! I have larger projects I'm working on, but sometimes it feels good to write something completely in just a short amount of time. If you'd like to request something please visit my tumblr and send me an ask! My user name there is [Stege-Kay!](https://stegekay.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I typically write Washingdad and Lams, though you might occasionally see other pairings from me. Most of my work comprises of angst or whump, but I'm open to other genres. As a rule I don't write anything explicit. If you've got a prompt you'd like to see, feel free to send me an ask and I'll see what I can do!


End file.
